Dying's a Boring Side Effect
by calillum
Summary: "Kavinsky!" Ronan said it like he meant to say a prayer. He was dreaming. Of course he was dreaming. But still- it was Joseph Kavinsky. ROVINSKY
1. One White Mitsubishi

A/N: This is my first attempt at anything for the Raven Cycle series but I can't help myself with Rovinsky! This takes place immediately after The Dream Thieves and will not take anything from Blue Lily, Lily Blue into account. It will be a multi-chaptered, I just haven't figured out just how long I want this to go on just yet. Please, leave feedback if you loved it, hated it, or just love Ronan Lynch half as much as I do! I hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: The Raven Cycle and its characters/world belongs to the lovely Maggie Stiefvater. I, unfortunately, am not Maggie Steifvater and just play with her boys to amuse myself.

**Dying's a Boring Side Effect**

Ronan was good at keeping secrets. He'd say he'd been keeping them for as long as he could remember but the truth was he could still remember the night he started. It wasn't a lie, because Ronan didn't tell lies, it was that he was sure that there must have been secrets before the night he found out what Niall Lynch was because he could no longer remember feeling free of his secrets. Just because Ronan was good at keeping secrets didn't mean he _liked_ them. Secrets just had a way of thrusting themselves onto his shoulders.

But inside Monmouth Manufacturing, he had less secrets to keep. His friends- Gansey and Noah and Adam and Blue, when the latter two dropped by- all knew him, or at least knew _what he was_. Greywaren, a dreamer, a creator. They knew his family too and what they didn't know they could guess. They had been there when this old secret of his had threaten to hurt every one of them. It had been Adam who saved him. Saved them.

Adam. Adam was another of Ronan's secrets. Sometimes it was even a secret from Ronan himself until he caught the thoughts that came unbidden of nice eyelashes or a wave of warmth that resembled awe when Adam walked into a room. But Ronan was good about squashing those feelings, so this secret rarely troubled him as he preferred to keep this secret out of his mind.

With Mr. Grey being able to stay, Matthew back safe and sound, and Cabeswater returned to its rightful state, Ronan thought things could go back to normal. Even when Blue's mother went missing and the cave appeared in the middle of Cabeswater, Ronan was sure that Glendower would be the focus of the rest of the summer at least. Instead, he found himself spending most of his time in Monmouth Manufacturing because Gansey thought it best to _research_ and _strategize._

The second day after Blue's mother went missing, Ronan suggested they just scale the cave. Blue glared at him and Gansey explained in his thickest old Virginian accent how it wasn't safe because Cabeswater was unstable and we wouldn't want the cave to close on us and squash our bodies to pulp half way down, now would we? His usual steadiness had been shaken though and Ronan watched Gansey glance between him and Adam throughout his speech. Ronan had to resist rolling his eyes and loudly assuring Gansey that no, he would not be like Parrish and sacrifice himself to the magic woods behind his back.

But Ronan hated waiting. He hated to be stagnant. It was only day nine and he was already restless. The others at least spent their time split between the old factory and 300 Fox Way, but all Ronan did was walk out into the open parking lot behind Monmouth to let Chainsaw fly for a little while each day.

Which is exactly where he was when a white Mitsubishi pulled into the large lot.

Ronan's stomach dropped, eyes glued to the car as it slowed to a roll a few yards away. The familiar black maw of the car seemed to taunt Ronan. He was shell-shocked, even when Chainsaw dipped back down from her circles above to perch on his reflexively raised arm. She squawked her familiar "_Kerah?"_ The Pig pulled in, parking much closer to Ronan, but its presence went unnoticed to the boy. He could almost hear the roar of the engine, smell of burning rubber. The flames of the burning car lapping at his raw skin.

The driver door clicked. Ronan's pulse pounded in his ear. Then-

"Ronan! Ronan! Lynch!" The shouting finally caught Ronan's attention, eyes focusing on Gansey who was a moment away from waving an arm in a certainly undignified manner in front of his friend's face. The Grey Man was hovering apprehensively by the Mitsubishi, eyeing Ronan in the way that he knew something was off. Ronan closed his eyes firmly for a moment before giving Gansey an impartial stare. Gansey took a step backwards and he was once again the perfect image he often portrayed.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to surprise you, but we needed somewhere to park the car for a few days. The paperwork you found for Mr. Grey is currently being processed but with the investigation on Kavinsky still open, it's going to take some time until he can drive it. That thing is too noticeable," Gansey says with a shrug.

Sorry. _Sorry_. Ronan repeats the word in his head, turning his gaze to the Grey man with a scowl. What was Gansey sorry for? Sorry for bringing such a hideous thing to our house. Sorry for bringing your father's murderer here. Sorry for shouting at you, but your head was with a dead man. _Sorry for bringing back the one thing that haunts your dreams_. Sorry.

But Ronan knew that Gansey was just being polite. He didn't answer just held his glare at Mr. Grey. The other man crossed the few feet between the two cars, sliding into the Pig without breaking their staring contest. Gansey just sighed when the door closed, drawing Ronan's attention back to his friend.

"You going to Cabeswater today?" Ronan asked, already knowing the answer. Gansey rubbed his lip, tossing his head back to squint into the sun for a moment before answering.

"We think we'll be able to go soon." Ronan snorted. "Now, Ronan, you aren't the only one who needs to get there. When we put all precautions in place and make it safe, we'll all go together."

Ronan doesn't think that Gansey understands what it means to need anything, not in the way he needs to get his mom back. Or they way Blue needs to get her mom back. Gansey thinks he needs to get to Glendower and maybe he does but not in the basic, primal way people need. Gansey has never needed anything in his life and that's the hole Glendower fits because Gansey doesn't understand these things.

But maybe he doesn't either. Ronan just shrugs again, acknowledging that he heard Gansey. Gansey seems like he's going to invite Ronan back to Fox Way but he glances back to the car and seems to think better of it. The truth is that they both know even if Mr. Grey wasn't there Ronan would not be going to Fox Way. They had had an arguement about it after the second time Ronan refused after Blue's mother disappear but nothing had come of it on Gansey's end and it seemed he wasn't keen on repeating the disaster. Instead, Gansey just shot him a picture perfect smile and said:

"Nino's later?"

"Yeah, sure," Ronan says, giving his attention to a preening Chainsaw. He's back inside before the Pig pulls out of the driveway and he resists the urge to look out the large windows the factory onto the white smudge he can make out in his peripherals. He's safe from the temptation once he shuts the door to his room. Chainsaw flew to her post, settling herself in as Ronan flopped listlessly onto his bed.

The Henrietta summer was a desperate sort of heat, too thick and humid to have a clear mind half the time. Ronan had grown up in summers like this but sometimes they still got the best of him. Sweat beaded down his forehead, tracing long lines before they hit the pillow beneath. Ronan's mind, typically abuzz, seemed hazy on the edges as he stared at the cracking paint on his ceiling. In the background Chainsaw was clicking her beak rhythmically and Ronan felt himself slipping away.

Until he wasn't hot anymore. Or actually, it was a different type of heat. The sun wasn't out anymore but the air burned heavier with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Ronan was forced to shield his eyes as a curl of flames shot out from the fire raging next to him. Backing away, Ronan watched the fire as it rose higher into the air as if it was kindled further by his presence. He quickly recognized the husk under the flames- the white body of a Mitsubishi Evo.

Then he heard the roar of tires. Turning around, he was on one of the old roads out of Henrietta. One of the ones he used to find himself at on Friday nights. Another blur of white was speeding at him from down the road, smaller but growing with each passing second. As it grew near Ronan found himself facing down the gaping black grill of the Mitsubishi not unlike he had been outside in the lot.

The car hurdled forward and Ronan belatedly acknowledged the fact that he is in the middle of the road. Right where the car is headed. To his left, the fire still burned, eliminating it as an option to dive out of the way. Ronan dove to the right, only to end up hitting something hard and falling. His hands grappled at what seems like the open night but find a hard wall. The flickering lights of Henrietta are merely wallpaper to the box he'd created and he'd run out of time. Ronan heaved himself up as the headlights stare him down.

The car must have moved to the wrong lane at some point and Ronan knew intrinsically that if he moved to his left, the car would follow. The headlights were huge and he could almost make out the driver behind them. Almost. Ronan had always loved how the night makes drivers anonymous and he could pretend that it's only the engine under him as he put it to its limits. Now it's a curse. Ronan turned himself to face the car full on, face taut and eyes fierce.

Then, the car stopped. There was no screeching, no his of tires under duress as they were forced to a grinding halt after being allowed to run free. The car didn't even seem to slow before it is perfectly still. There was a red glow on the hood of the car and the dark of the windshield and Ronan was puzzled for a moment as he heaved breaths into the silence of the night. Placing the familiar sight, he looked up and amazingly saw a single stoplight. The image processed for a moment before the information overwhelmed Ronan.

He laughed. Ronan laughed so hard and so full body that he is doubled over and dizzy. Even if there was anything to hear, he can't hear it over his laughing. He was dreaming. Of course he was dreaming. He could feel the familiar shift of the world as his mind processes the fact that was asleep but resists waking. It might not be a dream as a Greywaren, but it was what he wanted anyway. That white car and its painted knife seem to find a way to slip into all of his dreams recently. Either as just a passing glance or a ghost he can never quite catch up in his BMW, but Ronan took sick enjoyment from it.

Ronan's laughs tapered our enough to hear the click of the driver's door. Ronan's laugh halted altogether at that point. His mind whirled and Ronan struggled with not letting the dream slip away. He didn't want to wake up. Not yet. His dreams had never taken him this far and as he could make out white trainers as they hit the pavement from his hunched position, Ronan didn't let himself think.

"Lynch! What, did Daddy kick you out in the middle of the street? Get out of the road! Or don't, but you better not damage the paint if you're still there when that light's green."

"Kavinsky!" Ronan said it like he meant to say a prayer. Dark eyebrows were pulled beneath the rims of white sunglasses and Ronan could imagine the face he's making. Taking a moment to turn his head and spit on the ground, Kavinsky sneered back at Ronan.

"What, did Dick hit you in the head too? Doesn't he know that animal abuse is illegal?" Ronan was laughing again. It definitely wasn't because of what Kavinsky said but because it was exactly what Kavinsky _would_ say. Kavinsky was still pulling a face but leans half back into the car.

"I'm serious Lynch! Get. Out. Of. The. Road." Each word of the last sentence was punctuated by the honking of his horn.

"I think I'll stay here, thanks," Ronan called back. Kavinsky just threw him a large grin, throwing himself with what seemed necessary back into the Evo. He rolled down the window, sticking his head out to call back to Ronan.

"Suit yourself. Too bad III will have to find you as roadkill, he seems like the sort of guy who doesn't like to look at the inside of things on their outside. Maybe I'll bring him a leash for trailer trash so he won't get lonely at nights."

"Or maybe you can dream him up another me. Seems to have gone so well for you and Prokopenko."

"Aw, now don't get jealous on me. I told you once you're either with me or against me. Now, Lynch, go run back home to Daddy before I test out if this thing is really as invincible as I dreamed it." Ronan had only a few moments before the light turns and his decision was made for him. While he was half sure that the light would hold for as long as he needed, Ronan didn't want to be wrong and end up splattered under the Mitsubishi before he was throttled awake by another dream death.

The light was still red by the time he opened the passenger door and slid in. The Mitsubishi was the exact way he remembered it from his time spent dreaming things up with Kavinsky last month. Both boys were colored red by the spotlight and stared at each other. At least, Ronan thought Kavinsky was staring back at him as his head was turned in his direction but his eyes couldn't be seen from under his sunglasses. Finally, as Ronan saw the opposing light turn yellow from the corner of his eyes, Kavinsky shrugged.

"Alright," he said, quieter than usual. Then a smile and a rev of the engine. "If you want a ride, I guess I'm enough of a gentleman to give it to ya." The world stilled for a moment longer.

Green flood Ronan's eyes.

And he woke with a start. His body was heavy with sleep and the sun hung dimmer in his room than before, although it was no less hot. After a few deep breaths, Ronan was able to sit up although a bit stiffly. His dream replayed in his head. Ronan shoved off his bed to pace the spread of his room.

Kavinsky was there. But it was a dream, so it wasn't really Kavinsky. But it sounded like Kavinsky- acted like Kavinsky! But it was a dream. Ronan shook his head, disturbed that he knew Kavinsky well enough to dream such a realistic him. He was disturbed, but not surprised. Because it might have been a dream, but it had been Kavinsky.

Joseph _damn_ Kavinsky.

Ronan found his feet taking him outside of his room and around the pool table to the windows that overlooked the parking lot. It was dim out but he could still see the white Mitsubishi in the lot. Its mouth grinned at Ronan and Ronan felt his world solidify around him with only a single thought in his head: it was Kavinsky. He didn't care that it was his mind or a dream, he had created a dream version of his old rival and he knew how real dreams could be.

A second thought followed- he needed to dream Kavinsky again. This was the type of thought he usually dismissed at pushed away as it might scratch at the surface of the secret he didn't want to admit. But this one he didn't push away for some reason. Maybe because it was a dream, and he'd learned that dreams were a pure neutral and only swung towards evil or good on the dreamer. And him? He was the king of dreamers.

Headlights pulled into the parking lot and Ronan waited outside his room to greet his roommates. Noah had been much more corporeal since Cabeswater's return and Ronan could see him following Gansey inside. There was no Adam or Blue in sight, meaning it was another day without success.

Gansey greets him noisily when he gets inside and Noah in his muted way, before Gansey regards him with a hard stare and asks "Are you alright?"

Ronan is good with secrets. He also never lies. Instead, he deflects. "It's so hot in here," Ronan growled. Gansey smiles apologetically, saying something about air conditioning and soon before retreating to his room. Noah takes a bit longer to retreat, watching him in a way that unnerves Ronan. Noah seems to have a sixth sense about things that came with his death and it sometimes brushes Ronan's secrets.

But Ronan is good with secrets. So he scowls and retreats back into his room. He doesn't glance back at the Mitsubishi even though he wants to. He doesn't go back to sleep either, because he knows that Noah will be in to check up on him soon. His closed door doesn't have as much clout as it used to, but then again maybe it never had any clout against the dead. Instead, Ronan just shuts his eyes and thinks of anything that isn't white sunglasses or racing cars.

At least, not just yet.


	2. Two White Mitsubishis

A/N: This turned out much longer of a chapter than I intended. I promise you fun things between the boys soon, but what fun would it be without a bit of tension at first?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Chapter Two**

In the bright neon of Nino's, Ronan stood out like a sore thumb with a scowl and an expression darker than a thunder cloud. Gansey sat next to him, a stark contrast with his golden hues and friendly smile. Even Noah seemed less of a smudge of a boy next to the brooding Ronan, despite doing his best to blend in with the vinyl booth upholstery. Gansey was watching Blue from across the room as the conversation lapsed into silence, waiting for her to approach when she had a free second. He had done his best to include Ronan on what had been going on in 300 Fox Way despite Ronan's obvious disinterest and now had turned his attention to an avocado slice of pizza.

Adam wasn't there. Ronan wasn't sure if that was for better or worse as he deepened his scowl as a gaggle of girls passed their table giggling. On one hand, if the boy hadn't been working tonight and had come with them to Nino's Ronan might be able to take his mind off of his dream. On the other, he was sure that he'd be fighting his thoughts just as hard as he was now from going in a direction he definitely didn't want them to follow.

Everything was sharper when Adam was around. Right now, Ronan wasn't sure he could handle his mind being sharper without someone getting cut. Typically Ronan wouldn't mind that, as the person being hurt by his anger wouldn't be himself. He'd lash out, make a comment with a razor smile, or just take his BMW to that open stretch and find a race. Now, things were already too precarious with Adam and Cabeswater that it took nothing to wind him up, taking the wind out of Ronan's sails on that front and Gansey was too used to Ronan by now to take his barbs seriously. Blue was working and even Ronan respected that enough not to mess with her at Nino's.

And there was no one to race.

Ronan pushed that thought away as it led to others of wiry Bulgarian mobsters from Jersey that took too much effort for Ronan to process. Still, the reality was that his BMW had seen much less action recently and his blood boiled for the sound of tires screeching on tarmac.

Blue finally made her way over to their booth, causing Noah to perk up and Gansey to smile just a bit brighter. Ronan's sneer turned into a frown as he watched his friends. It was easy for them, it seemed. They existed on a different plane than Ronan, one where magic was something to search for and wonder at when they could feel it crackling in the air. He lived with it burning behind his eyes every day. No one could understand that.

Well, he considered, there were others who could. But one was struggling with the power of an ancient forest thrumming beneath his surface and was too preoccupied trying to be unknowable. The other was dead. Ronan's fist cracked on the old wooden booth before he knew what he was doing. Three sets of eyes turned to him and he had only a moment to react to his own impulses.

Replacing the scowl that had fallen off his face in introspection, Ronan shoved Noah out the side of the booth for which he landed on the floor with slight protest before blundering out the restaurant. He ignored Gansey's single call to him by hunching his shoulders further.

Henrietta nights were a bit more bearable than its days and Ronan exhaled his frustrations into the cooling air of the night. Many of the shops on the street were already closed and Nino's would follow suit shortly. The three boys had a later start to dinner than usual due to Gansey and Noah returning so late, but it didn't bother Ronan. He preferred the night.

He stalked the streets silently, letting his feet propel him with forceful stomps. He was grounding his anger out through the action, letting that tension that coiled between his shoulders seep into the concrete sidewalk. Ronan wished he had Chainsaw with him, but it seemed that Nino's frowned upon bringing any sort of pets into their establishment. Even without his companion, the roar of the cicadas and thick scent of summer was enough to quell Ronan.

Ronan's anger flared back up when he stopped outside a familiar, weathered building. His feet had betrayed him and taken him straight to St. Agnes. Begrudgingly, Ronan tilted his head back to take note of the steady light coming from the top room of the old Church. _Parrish._ Ronan's mind snarled the name like a curse. All at once, he wanted to storm the doors of the Church, take the stairs two by two and yell at the dusty blonde for _not staying out of his head_.

But the truth was that Ronan's subconscious brought him here without any incentive from Adam Parrish, the boy who lived over the Church. In fact, he didn't even know that Ronan was currently glowering at his window from the street like some deranged stalker.

Ronan ducked his head, crossed the street and entered the Church before he decided against it. The door shut behind him with a resounding thump that filled the empty space. Ronan made his way up the aisles, hands reached on either side of him to trail on the smooth wood of the pews. His movements were muffled by a worn runner on the stone floor, so when Ronan heard the soft patter of footsteps above him, he froze with the certainty of who they belonged to.

Eyes trained on the ceiling, Ronan let them wander the path he imagined the blonde boy above him to be pacing by the sound of his footfalls. The circle around once, twice, thrice then-

Ronan was suddenly very aware of how silent the Church was. He hadn't been here alone at night since he dreamt Chainsaw and though he spent his Sunday's praying in this very spot, the shadows of night seemed foreign to him. Backing up slowly, Ronan slid into the nearest pew, eyes still on the ceiling and ears prickling to hear more movement.

After a few minutes of silence, Ronan exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He wasn't sure why he was here and was angry at himself for ever coming, but it was the sort of anger that fizzled out before it fully formed. Or, in Ronan's case, the rare type of anger that didn't overwhelm him. In fact, he couldn't seem to find any concrete emotion to hold on to at all as he sat on the unforgiving wooden benches. All he could feel was _want_.

_Want_ to hear those telltale noises above him. _Want_ to not find himself being drawn in by the boy who caused those noises. _Want_ to never again have those thoughts that made the previous two desires so pervasive. _Want _to go up there and just do _something_. Punch him, push him to his limits, break that fragile spell and let Cabeswater spill through until he saw that Ronan _knew_. He _knew_. _Want_ for someone to know him in return. _Want _for those wasted moments with dreamt pills where he thought that could be possible. _Want_ to bring back a ghost. _Want_ to not want anything of these things because they were all consuming him.

Ronan lay down on the pew, staring at the ceiling and attempting to convince himself that he wasn't waiting for another noise from above. He bargained with himself that if he did hear Adam again, he'd go upstairs. Sometime later, it became clear that the other boy had either gone to bed or was holed up on some half broken piece of furniture studying. Ronan was betting on the later.

Leering above Ronan was a plaster angel, hands clasped in prayer as she looked down on Ronan in judgement. Most people would expect Ronan to roll his eyes at such idols but the good Catholic in him had the grace to be repentant in holy spaces. Shame washed over him and for all his efforts, the secret that Ronan so desperately wanted to keep from himself was coming to the surface. Averting his eyes, Ronan traced the golden typeface of the bible in the pocket of the pew before him.

Niall Lynch had raised his sons to be good Catholics, meaning Ronan was very familiar with the verses between the bindings of the book he now held in his hands. That didn't stop him from flipping to an arbitrary page and skimming the words. Religion covered many things, paganism included, but not real magic. He wasn't sure where he fell in the eyes of God- was he damned? Blessed? Ronan figured it didn't matter- despite his attendance at Church every Sunday he wasn't the poster boy for goodness. The thoughts he tried so desperately to hide burned their way to the surface as a blush burned his pale Celtic skin.

There was a crash from above and some distorted cry of frustration, catching Ronan in a moment of weakness. Further embarrassed, Ronan just shot a glare at the ceiling, abandoning his earlier plan to crash into Adam's apartment. Curling onto his side, Ronan closed the bible and cradled it to his chest. Forcing his mind into submission, Ronan closed his eyes and just breathed.

His breath was pushed out suddenly by a pressure shoving him back deep into the- racing seat? Ronan quickly recognized the sight of streetlights as they blurred by so quickly it was impossible to make one out individually. The second thing he realized was that he wasn't the one who was driving, which was often how these dreams went. With some effort, as the speed was pushing him back into the racing seat that was meant to hold him in place, Ronan turned his head towards the driver's seat.

"Kavinsky!" Ronan snarled loudly over an electronic beat. It sounded like he meant to curse.

"Too fast for you, princess," Kavinsky cackled. He shifted with a hitch, making Ronan clench his eyes and sink back into his seat. _At least_, he thought to himself, _make a Kavinsky that can drive if you're forced to dream of him._ Ronan perked back up at a familiar scent that seemed to come through the radiator.

Burning- gasoline and vinyl and plastic and Ronan could see the warping of the white engine hood.

"Kavinsky!" Ronan yelled again. This time he was rewarded by being flung forward and he reflexively braced himself against the plastic of the dashboard despite the rough nylon racing seat belts that lurched him backwards with just as much force as the breaks had launched him forward. Kavinsky's hand darted out to turn off the music as soon as the tires screeched to a halt, turning in his seat to face Ronan.

"Fuck, Lynch! What? God, if I had known you were this much of a pussy I'd have left you back at that light. Did III cut your balls off for a sick fucking trophy after you dreamt him up a new Camaro?"

"Fuck off Kavinsky," Ronan said hurriedly with little conviction out of habit before struggling with his seatbelt that he couldn't get undone. Familiar panic set into his stomach as he realized he was going to die in his dream. Again. He had died a thousand deaths and he knew one thing- the pain always felt too real. He didn't want to burn to death. Turning to Kavinsky, Ronan tried to keep his composure although his voice betrayed him.

"We need to get out of here. Your car is on fire, it's going to explode." Then he processed what Kavinsky said and furrowed his brow, adding "What light?"

Kavinsky stared at him for a moment. Ronan suddenly realized how silent everything was- no offensive Russian blaring at him from speakers, no hum of an engine, not even the cicadas that overpopulated Virginia were to be heard. Kavinsky's and his breathing making any noise at all, making Ronan conscious of how deep his breaths were coming. Again, he tried to fumble with his seatbelt, but it still didn't budge. After a few moments of regarding his anxious companion, Kavinsky slid his white glasses off of his face, revealing eyes more pupil than anything else.

"Man, Dick really _did_ hit you in the head didn't he? What are you _on_ Lynch? You were standing in the middle of the damn road like you were waiting for some Hail Mary to take you out of your miserable life. Did you dream up some pills? My first batch weren't too good either, made me convinced I had stopped breathing. Boring side effects and all that," Kavinsky shook his head. "Next time, just ask man. I can give you what you need. III doesn't even need to know." Kavinsky finished with toothy grin that Ronan thought looked more like that of a shark than of a man. Growing angry, Ronan lashed out.

"Whatever, Kavinsky. You can stay in here and burn but you need to _let me out._" Kavinsky burst into motion instantaneously, kicking open his driver door.

"Fine, Lynch. My car's on fire? Where!" He banged on the hood of his car, eyes wildly holding Ronan's gaze through the windshield. "You and me gonna go out in a hail of fire and gasoline? Is that how it's gonna be? Boom!" He slammed his hands down on the hood again and Ronan flinched unwillingly. Kavinsky seemed to calm down as he leaned on the front of his car. Ronan looked at the hood of the car and found it to be decidedly unburnt or warped by fire. His mind raced. _This wasn't how things went._ He dreamt something. It was real. By now they both should have, by Kavinsky's words, gone _boom._

Ronan found that now, after all of his struggles, his seatbelt finally released him. Without thinking, he let himself out of the car and circled around the front of the car until he was almost shoulder to shoulder with Kavinsky, looking at the familiar white Mitsubishi.

"Seems you're right," Ronan says mildly before snorting and adding "for once." He was collected again and his shields back up. The two stood in silent for a moment and Ronan let himself think about how weird this dream was. He was used to weird dreams, but they all at least followed the rules. They never picked up in the middle of old dreams- oh old dreams would repeat, he thought with a scowl, but they wouldn't continue like some unfinished story. Ronan's thoughts were interrupted by Kavinsky pulling a baggie out of his pocket and pouring the contents on the roof of the car.

Ronan made a dismissive noise as Kavinsky began to cut the coke he had just poured onto the car into straight lines. Blown up pupils turned themselves on Ronan once again and Ronan felt himself drawn into how _lifelike_ they were.

"Don't knock it til you try it," Kavinsky was laughing and Ronan just shrugged. An obscene snorting noise came next and Ronan was tempted to turn his eyes but persisted to watch Kavinsky get high. Kavinsky turned with a quick jerk and held a rolled up bill out to Ronan. Ronan just frowned at it and Kavinsky laughed harder.

"Oh come _on_, Lynch. It's no worse than whatever the fuck you're on right now," Kavinsky waggled his hand with the bill in it and Ronan glared hard as a response. Growing bored of teasing Ronan, Kavinsky was in Ronan's face with another quick jerky movement. Ronan had to stop himself from taking a step back, refusing to let Kavinsky get under his skin.

"Scared of what Dick would think?"

"Shut up, Kavinsky."

"_Oh Dick!"_ Kavinsky mimicked in a high pitched voice. "Dickdickdick_Dick!_ God Lynch, you're so pathetic. Letting that- that- _nothing_ rule your fucking life." Ronan was silent but his eyes burned with fury. Kavinsky pressed closer to the point where Ronan could feel his breath, stale with alcohol, on his face. "You could have had the world, you know, if you weren't such a pussy."

Ronan shoved Kavinsky, but the brunette just laughed, tossing his dark head as he made circles with his arms wide.

"Do you know what it feels like to be _free_? Because we get that, _we get that_. But Dick's got you so fucking trapped in a world that doesn't me shit."

"Leave Gansey out of this," Ronan growled. Kavinsky stopped spinning, pinning Ronan with a dark look before growling back with heat uncharacteristic of the Bulgarian.

"No, _you_ leave III out of this." Ronan wasn't sure how to respond to this and the dark look was gone from Kavinsky's eyes as quickly as it came. He leaped up onto the hood of the car and Ronan felt images from the Fourth surfacing.

"Get down," he commanded. Kavinsky just begins his odd circles on top of the car instead. "Dammit, Kavinsky! Get down!" Ronan yelled. His shell must have cracked again because Kavinsky just stopped his dancing and pinned him with a raised eyebrow.

"What's it to you, Lynch?"

" .Down." Ronan ground out. He wasn't sure why he expected Kavinsky to listen to him, maybe because it was his dream and he was used to getting what he wanted in dreams. Unfortunately, Kavinsky acted the same way in the dream as he did in real life- by doing everything to get a rise out of Ronan. So he climbed to the roof of the car instead.

"Tell you what, you do a line and I'll get down."

"What?"

"You heard me, Lynch." He dropped the rolled up bill so it rolled down the windshield, getting caught in the wipers. From this angle, Ronan could see that it was a fifty and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If Adam could see how Kavinsky used money he'd practically kill for-

_Adam_. The thought washed over Ronan like cold water and suddenly the edges of the dream began to seem fuzzy. Ronan knew he was waking up and it was only a matter of time before he was dragged back to the world of the living. But he wanted Kavinsky off the damn car first.

So he kicked its bumper hard enough to shake the whole car. Ronan had only a few moments to process the fact that his tactic had worked as Kavinsky leapt to the ground and swung. His fist connected with Ronan's jaw and Kavinsky pulled him in by his collar, eyes fuming. Ronan let out a bark of a laugh at seeing Kavinsky so _alive._ Ronan had enough time to block the second punch before it landed, but his arms stayed stubbornly at his side and it connected again.

"Ronan!" A very un-Kavinsky voice called his name and suddenly the grip on his shirt disappeared and the last thing Ronan could remember seeing Kavinsky's eyes widen enough to distinguish the whites of it from the deep brown hues that were too often overwhelmed by his pupils.

"Ronan!" the voice prompted again and Ronan opened his eyes to find himself staring at shadowed wood. The owner of the voice must have realized Ronan was awake, not calling out to him again and waiting for him to collect himself enough to sit up. If Ronan was anyone else, he would have grimaced at the sore muscles he earned from falling asleep on a Church pew. Turning his head, he saw light eyes observing him silently.

"What do you want, Parrish?" Ronan growled. Even if he hadn't been the one to call out to him while he was sleeping, he was the one who unknowingly broke the dream moments earlier by being an obnoxiously persistent thought in Ronan's head.

"What are you doing here?" Adam demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ronan retorts with venom, causing Adam's eyes to narrow.

"_I_ happen to _live_ upstairs and this happens to be the _only_ way to get to the front door." Ronan is impressed at how harsh Adam sounds right now, almost as if he was as far away from people as he thought. Almost.

"Yeah well I pray here," Ronan said, tossing his head back so that it dangled over the back of the pew. There was a moment of silence and Ronan was all too aware of Adam's eyes on him but refused to look back at the blonde.

"Have you been fighting?" Adam demands. Ronan belatedly realizes that all his soreness is not just from laying on the pews but from bruises. Bruises he had gotten from agitating a ghost. Ronan runs a hand absentmindedly over his jaw, frowning when he can make out a forming bruise in the shape of a fist.

"God, Ronan, what is wrong with you?" Ronan just tutted at Adam.

"Tsk tsk, Parrish. Using the Lord's name in vain in such a holy space," Ronan raised his arms in emphasis at the last two words. He finally brought his gaze back to Adam when he was sure it was as icy as he intended. Adam just let out a sigh, dropping his arms and shaking his head.

"You know what, Lynch? Whatever. Go kill yourself with fights and alcohol, throw everything away." Ronan narrowed his eyes, standing up so abruptly that the bible he had forgotten about hit the floor with a resounding Bang! Ronan had a strange feeling that he was between worlds- the reality where Adam and Gansey and Glendower existed and the reality his dreams created. Trying to center himself, Ronan gripped the back of the pew in front of him. He was once again overly aware of Adam's eyes on him. Rage boiled in him, centering him back into which reality he was in. Emboldened by his rage, Ronan closed much of the space between him and Adam until the other boy was forced to take a step back. Ronan smirked.

"At least I'm not afraid." Two sets of blue eyes bore into each other and it seemed inevitable that one of them would snap and attack the other. Instead, Adam hung his head and turned his back on Ronan, retreating back into the Church.

"Go home, Lynch."

When he left, so did the rage that had been burning under Ronan's skin. He hung his head, standing there for a few moments as a statue of a tortured boy. The issue was, Ronan wasn't sure where home was anymore.


	3. Three White Mitsubishis

A/N: Alright, so this is a shorter chapter. But in return I promise you lots of goodies very soon- starting with the next chapter ;)

Disclaimer: I unfortunately own nothing of TRC.

**Three White Mitsubishis**

Ronan found his way back to Monmouth- which was not what he'd consider home but decidedly what Adam had meant. After feeding an impatient Chainsaw and soothing her feathers for a few moments, Ronan threw himself onto his bed with the purpose of dreaming for a second time that night.

A sinking feeling of disappointment began when Ronan opened his eyes and found a familiar cracked ceiling overhead. He was still in Monmouth. He must have slept dreamlessly through the rest of the night- a feat he was usually thankful for but irked him then. Ronan tried to gauge the time by the amount of light on the ceiling in an attempt to decide whether or not he wanted to get up yet.

Before he could decide on anything, something hard and pointy jammed into Ronan's side. The slow start Ronan had been considering was replaced by coiling muscles and pounding vitals as Ronan jumped off of the bed. A mess of black hair stood out against the crisp whiteness of the bedding around him and Ronan was sure that if his heart beat any faster it was going to explode.

Kavinsky's head bobbed up lazily, taking in the standing Ronan and surroundings, unaware to the sheer panic Ronan was experiencing.

Ronan's mind whirled through possibilities- half terrified him for the fact that Joseph Kavinsky was in Monmouth Manufacturing and Gansey was going to _kill_ him for that and the other half terrified that _he had dreamt a Joseph Kavinsky_. He decided to focus on the former concern, as the latter just brought too many other issues to light and he began an internal chant of _not here, not Monmouth, not here, nothere, notherenotherenothere._

And Ronan realized they weren't in Monmouth at all. What he had thought were his scarred walls from too many drunken nights and ancient paint work were actually freshly painted walls and the ceiling had cracks in it but they weren't from wear and tear but from a leaky roof. The shift was minor and more of a blurring of hard lines into a more tolerable form, but still noticeable nonetheless. Kavinsky merely took in the new environment with a frown.

"Alright," he muttered, oddly muted for the dark haired boy. He threw himself back down onto the bed, head sinking into a mountain of white again. "You've got some serious trust issues, Lynch."

Ronan didn't rise to the bait, relieved that he hadn't actually brought Kavinsky out from his dreams. Instead, he just took a moment to appreciate the room his dreams had created for him. For a room that had been based upon the layout of his own, it was of a completely different feel with books and papers lining the floors instead of dream things and empty bottles. It was almost amazing how much a person could shape the space they lived in, Ronan mused, and he suddenly felt extremely out of place. Fighting down the foreboding prickling up spine, Ronan turned back to Kavinsky.

"What are you doing here?" Ronan demanded without malice.

Kavinsky's "you tell me" can out more as "ou ell be," muffled from the pillows. Growing frustrated, Ronan grabbed one of the offending items and yanked it away from the other boy's head. Kavinsky gave Ronan a dead look before rolling over.

"Kavinsky!" Ronan snapped, bringing the pillow he was holding slamming back onto the other boy's head. Kavinsky sat up with a growl.

"Fucking watch it! There are already jackhammers drilling out my eyes and my head is going to waste my brain all over your sheets in a second. So, if you don't want a black eye to match your busted lip, I'd suggest you put down the pillow, princess." Kavinsky was glaring at Ronan but it lacked it usual touch and the latter realized how wrecked Kavinsky looked.

His entire skin looked taught and sullen with blotchy spots here and there like a feverish child. Dark circles were blooming under his eyes and Ronan could actually make the differentiation between pupil and iris for once, although they were heavily glassed over. Ronan wasn't sure if he was more shaken by how bad Kavinsky looked coming down off of god knows what or by how _human_ he looked without his gaudy white glasses.

"Where are your glasses?" Ronan asked, regretting the question as soon as it left his mouth. Kavinsky's face morphed into its usual form- brows raised and a half smirk playing on his lips.

"I'm guessing the same place as my boxers after you ripped them both off me last night." Ronan froze for a second, pulse shooting up again before he quickly realized that Kavinsky was just riling him up.

"Fuck you, K."

"I'm up for round too if you are, babe," Kavinsky practically purred. He lay back into the bed again although this time it was all angles and languid stretching for Ronan's benefit. Ronan tried his hardest to not look although where peeking out of blankets was bare flesh Ronan had only previous imagined- no, not imagined he reminded himself, because why would he imagine that?- it was hard to keep his eyes to himself. Kavinsky caught the sneaked glances and his smirk grew to an all-out grin. Ronan just scowled.

"Where did you take us, anyway?" Kavinsky asked, bringing Ronan's attention back to him. Ronan glanced back down at the brunette before snapping his head away again as Kavinsky had rolled out of the blankets, giving him a lot more skin to look at. Although, it did confirm that Kavinsky had been kidding about anything they might have done because he was still wearing boxers. Or at least Ronan hoped so.

"I don't know," Ronan barked back.

"How do you not know, man? We're in your head!"

"Right, K, we're in my head. Have some more of whatever you had last night," Ronan jokes, unsure of how to handle Kavinsky's accusation.

"Sure, so we can race again tonight and it'll be like nothing ever happened," Kavinsky mutters, sounding oddly sullen. There is a pause and neither boy moves or says anything for an unquantifiable amount of time. Then-

"Did you… Last night, did… My face… Race? Shit," Ronan ends his mess of words with a scowl and regret for breaking the silence without knowing what he wanted to say. He knew what he wanted to ask but wasn't sure how to put it. There was silence again but this time it seemed as if both were calculating their next move. Kavinsky broke the silence this time.

"I don't know what happened to your face, princess. But if I did I'd beat the sorry bastard for ruining those dirty lips of yours for me," Kavinsky moved like lightning- suddenly up and invading Ronan's space with a swipe of his thumb over his bruised lip. Despite his best efforts, Ronan connected this action to Gansey's habit and his mind couldn't reconcile the two together. Kavinsky smirked again, eyes blown wide again even though Ronan knew he hadn't taken anything since waking up.

Kavinsky narrowed the space between them even more, his left arm reaching behind Ronan, although not touching him. Ronan could feel the heat of Kavinsky's body at this proximity but it was gone as soon as it came as Kavinsky leaned back out of his space, backing up. His face said that _he knew_ and the cocky raise of a single eyebrow seemed to challenge Ronan.

"See you on the streets," Kavinsky headed for the door, throwing something at Ronan over his shoulder.

Ronan caught it and in the moment he took to look down at the object, Kavinsky was gone. In his hands, Ronan held a pair of ridiculous white sunglasses. A moment later, the door was thrown open again and Ronan's head jerked up.

And this time, it was the door to his room at Monmouth opening and Ronan was lying on top of his bed covers and the sun was shining much too bright for him to have been sleeping. Ronan tried to get everything back into perspective, anger boiling in his stomach for someone breaking his cardinal rule and coming into his room unannounced and uninvited.

Gansey stood half in and half out of the doorway, frown in place and a telltale wrinkle in the middle of his forehead. He didn't look around the room, which Ronan was thankful for, because he knew that the evidence of his drinking was something Gansey disapproved of and he couldn't handle disapproval right now. He was too off-kilter from his dreams.

"Sorry, I knocked. Have you seen Blue?" Ronan almost snapped at Gansey at how he obviously hadn't seen Blue because she wasn't rude enough to barge into his room while he was sleeping, but the worry in Gansey's face made him hold his tongue. A few months ago, that worry would have made him jealous, but now, it just made him worry alongside his housemate.

"No, she isn't with Parrish?" Gansey just shook his head, eyes unfocused on some point above Ronan's shoulder. He absent mindedly swiped his thumb over his lip and Ronan felt his ears flush as he fought back the memory of his dream. "Well, Henrietta isn't much. Sooner we start looking, sooner we find her."

Gansey's attention snapped back to Ronan, dazzling him with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Ronan almost returned it, except his face seemed to have forgotten the expression over the past few years. Instead, he remembered why he would follow Gansey to the ends of the earth- Glendower or no Glendower. Gansey had enough magic in him that he didn't need dreams or Cabeswater to make his visions real.

"Adam is already on his way over here. I'm going to go pick up Calla, then we can all figure out where Jane might have gone." Ronan wasn't expecting his thoughts about following Gansey anywhere to be put to the test so quickly, as seeing Calla any time was straining to Ronan and being around Adam right now just might break him, but Ronan just nods at Gansey. As he gets out of bed, Ronan realized that Gansey hasn't left to pick up Blue's aunt like he said. Turning an inquisitive gaze to his friend, he found Gansey's eyeing something in his hands. Looking down, Ronan's stomach dropped upon realizing what he brought back from his dream.

"I didn't know kept those," Gansey said with quiet solemnity. Ronan's hand curled around the plastic frames almost enough to break them, quietly seething at the ground. He was caught between embarrassment and anger at how easy it would have been to have brought someone instead of something back with him.

Shame wins out and Ronan made a familiar promise to himself to never dream again. But to Gansey, he replied: "I didn't." The glasses flew out of the second story window of Monmouth minutes later with hopes that they never find their way back.


	4. Four White Mitsubishis

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Sorry for the length between updates, IRL issues. I'll try to update on a more regular schedule, but things are a bit hectic still. I've tried to make up for it though with an extra long chapter! Enjoy :)

* * *

It had been two days since he helped Gansey find Blue- who had been joyriding with Noah of all people to some backwater town outside of Henrietta. Ronan never had much affection for the small town but its outliers were worth more than his regular scorn. When Gansey had returned to Monmouth, he had a thin film of dirt coating his usually pristine clothes and a smudge on his face more befitting of Noah and Ronan just scowled harder at how base it was in this corner of Virginia. Before he really _saw_ Adam he had first noticed that same layer of dust on him that gave him away more than any accent ever could. And while he thought of it as endearing on Adam now, he was the only exception.

The irony in his feelings was the fact that the ruralness of this side of Virginia gave him his greatest pleasure too- large expanses of open roads with little traffic or police presence. Ronan had been true to his vow against dreaming, but it was closing in on fifty four hours and there was only so much energy drinks and coffee could do for him. So he was on familiar backstreets with the windows down and air conditioning on for a dual cooling effect as he pushed his chassis to the limit. The adrenaline kept his body pumping forward but the street lights seemed to blur together in his tired eyes.

Ronan pulled his car around in a dangerous drift that would have been considered dangerous if it had his full attention and nearly suicidal in his impaired state. Breathing hard as the BMW jerked to a stop, Ronan shook his head as if to rid it of the fog. He felt less in control than when he finished bottles of brown release and he tried to convince himself that the beating in his chest was just from driving rather than how vulnerable he felt with his lack of control. The cold air wasn't helping anymore, especially at a stop when the windows began to suck out the artificially cooled air into the hot abyss that was a southern summer.

He knew he had to sleep. There was no running from it, it was simple biology. It hadn't stopped him from trying, but even his shifting had been sloppy and he knew that if there had been a white ghost next to him, he'd have been seeing tail lights for days. Ronan pushed this thought away and considered the twelve pack he had in the back seat. His first instinct was to drink himself to sleep and chase the dreams away in a drunken stupor but going into his dreams head on could be to his advantage as well. He wasn't Greywaren for nothing and if he could control his dreams he'd be fine.

Ronan's confidence in his ability to control his unconscious mind faded as quickly as it came, leaving him to pull off the side of the road and kill the ignition before awkwardly sliding himself into the back seat. The first can opened with a hissing crack and Ronan gulped down the liquid with as much reverence as he offered up an _Ave._ It was drinking with a purpose and he methodically opened the second, third, fourth. The fourth one spluttered a bit in Ronan's hands, dripping its foul scented contents over the back seat. Ronan swore, removing his shirt to clean it up. The fifth one earned a glare from Ronan as a warning not to replicate its brother's actions. Instead, this one caused Ronan to tip his head a bit too far back so that his body slipped on the still wet leather. Ronan smacked his head into the passenger side door as he sprawled out in the cramped back seat, disoriented from his fall.

The sixth one soothed over the wounds caused by its predecessors, serving as a twisted lullaby. As the last drops hit Ronan's lips, he vaguely mused that he might have made a mistake. He was too tired and the liquid clogged his already sluggish veins too quickly to earn him a night of blackness. The can rolled onto the floor to join the others and Ronan tried to sit back up, unsteady in his movements. He miraculously found his phone in the center console and after a few attempts to hit the correct buttons, he punched the contact for Gansey.

It rang too many times before Ronan heard the pristine Old Virginian accent invite him to leave his name and number for a return call. Ronan snarled and threw his phone. Realizing he still needed to get in touch with _someone_ because being out in the middle of nowhere right now was the same as signing his death warrant, Ronan cursed loudly and slid off of the back seat onto the floor to get the phone that had slip under the front seats. His face was pressed into the empty beer cans and their remnants were quickly turning putrid in the heat, making Ronan fear he was going to be sick in the back of his beloved car.

His fingers clasped his phone and he sat up faster than he should have to get away from the cans, making him dizzy and inviting little black dots to cloud his eyes. Pushing through it, Ronan tried Gansey again and laughed as the voicemail beeped for his message. He fumbled with the end button, still hysterical at how the one time he ever uses his damn phone, Gansey wasn't picking up. Ronan isn't sure who else to call and considers pulling himself out of the car and trying to hitch back. But he knows the roads too well and if there were to be a single car passing him in the dead of night in the middle of the week, they wouldn't stop for a knife of a boy like him.

In a last resort, Ronan opens his contacts for anyone he could call. He makes it past G, averts his eyes for the next four letters, and ends up with his thumb hovering over a single contact. It's only a few seconds but Ronan feels as if he wrestles with himself for much longer. If he presses the number, he isn't sure who will pick up, and there are things on the other side of the line he does not want to speak to. But he's in the middle of Virginia and he can feel the dust trying to drag him under and so he presses the button with an empty plea for mercy.

"_Ah, yes. I've been expecting your call. In a few moments, you will find yourself in unimaginable pleasure, pleasure only the promises of the future can provide. Pleasure and promises that I can give you- if the price is right,"_ a raspy, sultry voice enticed from the other side of the line. Ronan said nothing for a moment, not sure if he had called the right line or Blue had given him the number of a sex line as a joke.

"_Hello?" _The voice was less sultry this time and Ronan could hear the huff on the other line, reminding him that it had been Gansey who gave him the number- _for emergencies_ as he put it. And Gansey would never consider the availability of such lines let alone pass one along as a joke, and whether that was a credit or pity Ronan wasn't sure. He snapped back into it at the second "_Hello?" _and cleared his throat.

"Is Ma- Blue there?" The line went silent before the woman on the other end scoffed and he could hear her yelling for the other girl.

"Blue speaking," this voice had none of the other's undertones but it made his palms prickle with anxiety furiously.

"It's Ronan," he practically barked out, glaring at the dashboard of his car, offended that there were now two navigation systems.

"You know how to use a phone?" She was prickly on the other line and Ronan knew his spikes would usually barb back but instead all he could muster was a sigh.

"Look, I tried calling Gansey but he isn't answering his phone. I need...he needs to come get me. I'm about twenty miles west of Henrietta, he'll know what road."

"Why?" He could hear the suspicion in her voice. "And how do you think I can get in touch with him if his phone is off?"

"I don't doubt your resourcefulness, Maggot," Ronan snarled, slumping back into the seat, feeling his defeat was imminent.

"You still haven't answered why."

"Because I can't sleep!" Ronan exploded. There was a pause and Ronan followed up, much more subdued with, "I _can't_ sleep."

Sleep sounded like dream and the silence in the line conveyed everything that Ronan couldn't and wouldn't say. His head felt heavier by each second and he was sure that Blue had hung up on him the second he yelled at her. She was the only one who didn't stand for Ronan Lynch's shit and so it was fitting she was the only one who could save him right now. He dropped his phone onto the seat next to him, letting out a gasp of air that was as close to a sob as he would allow.

"Ronan?" Blue's voice was distant and Ronan quickly snatched the phone back up and put it next to his ear. "Stay awake, we'll be there soon." There were no thanks or goodbyes before the line went dead.

Invigorated, Ronan reached over to turn the keys over. Fiddling with his radio, Ronan eventually managed to turn his music all the way up until the bass seemed to swallow him in the back seat. The beat shifts into another, then another, and Ronan wasn't sure how much longer it would take for Blue to meet up with Gansey and come find him. He started having a hard time telling the tracks apart from each other and he could once again feel the warmth of the beers like a furnace in his core.

Sleep found Ronan easily after a few more loops in the bassline. Despite all of his best efforts, he slipped into unconsciousness so quickly he barely noticed. One moment he was watching the LED lights on his dashboard, the next he was squinting into bright blue skies. Ronan sat up with some effort, anxiety rising as he tried to calm himself. The last thing he needed was his fears attacking him when he could barely sit up.

He let out a sigh of relief when he recognized the ancient trees of Cabeswater. He giggles and a splash from his right in the pond he often dreamt of. He was sure he'd find the girl peeking at him through rippling water if he turned but instead he just let himself collapse against the plush grass. Ronan hadn't dreamt of Cabeswater in too long and he almost felt silly for being so afraid of sleeping. He knew the forest and knew that for all the horrors it held, it also held the closest thing to peace he could find. Ronan wouldn't ask for anything tonight because he didn't need, and needing was the only reason he'd ask for anything anymore. He carefully navigated around the reason why he was so careful with his dream things now and focused on the cool breeze that was like heaven on his skin.

Figuring out the pleasure the breeze brought the Greywaren, the forest focused its energy on creating the perfect massage out of its soothing air. It was almost as if fingers were massaging him and Ronan let out a small sigh of contentment. There were more splashes and Latin hung on Ronan's tongue but he swallowed down his words in favor of remaining in relaxed bliss.

Ronan wasn't sure if he could sleep in a dream but he was sure he was close. His body was heavy but content and his head was clearer than he could remember it being in the past few years. He barely noticed when the breeze turned a bit more tangible and it became real fingers tracing over his skin. Up his arm, tickling his sides, pressing just enough on his taut abdomen to stir his mind, then up his chest and curling around his neck with a realness that began to pique his interest. Ronan had many dreams like this and so he exhaled a little harder, expecting calloused fingers to continue their ministrations.

What he didn't expect were those fingers to frame his jaw, the longest come to dig into the base of his skull and play with the short hairs there. Ronan dreamed of this often, and it never went like this. Fingers worked his body with precision of tuning a car but never with aggression, yet Ronan settled in for the ride, still on the cusp of sleep with eyes closed. They quickly shot open when these fingers dug in harshly and jerked his head up so that lips smashed into an awaiting pair.

The eyes were not the warm blue Ronan dreamt of. They were darker and drilling into his own with a challenge. All at once, the beer that Ronan had drained before sleeping sunk into his limbs. His hands came to the front of Kavinsky's shirt but neither boy knew if he was pushing away or pulling closer, not that it mattered anyway as Kavinsky's grip tightened.

Ronan's mouth opened in a sound of protest and he bit down warningly when Kavinsky's tongue slithered its way in. Laughing deep in his throat, Kavinsky pull Ronan's head back roughly so that their lips drew apart with a telling smack. Ronan breathed deeply, something bubbling deep in his gut and he wanted to grab the boy back and take out whatever began to burn hotter than the alcohol inside of him. Kavinsky must have noticed that as he winked slowly at Ronan.

"Careful, shitcake, we don't want any monsters ruining our fun. We already know mine burns hotter anyway."

"Fuck you," Ronan snarled, the anger he had been repressing since the fourth coming to the surface. The tree bristled at his distress and Kavinsky glanced around them with a look of boredom, challenging them to lash out at him while he was wrapped around Ronan. Ronan took the opportunity to gather himself and used all his strength to flip them so that Kavinsky was on his back.

Black slits glared up at him and Kavinsky's grin was all teeth as Ronan let go and allowed everything he was feeling to take over. The first punch left a lot of blood gushing out of Kavinsky's nose and mouth. Instead of retaliating with first Kavinsky just pulled at Ronan's shoulders. His equilibrium was already compromised and Ronan found himself falling, only to be caught by lips slicked with blood. The metallic taste filled Ronan's mouth and his anger gave way on a different front. His hands dug into Kavinsky's shoulders, separating them again as the slighter one was pushed into the ground. Ronan dove back down to capture Kavinsky's mouth in a clash of teeth and tongue that was unforgiving.

Ronan vaguely thought that Kavinsky was finally getting everything he wanted as his hands roamed over Ronan's back. But that didn't mean it was gentle. Nails dug into his flesh, leaving half moon cuts in the best of places and long scratches in the worst. One hand came to Ronan's head, once again cradling his skull, but this time he reached his fingers around and pressed hard into the fading bruise Kavinsky had left in Ronan's other dream.

Ronan broke away letting out a pained growl, knees coming to press harder into Kavinsky's side. Where he expected the forest to have changed to greys and shadows with his mood, it was still as sunny as before, although stiller than he was used to. The only sound was the harsh breathing of the two teens tangled in the dewy grass. No trees, no giggling of the dark haired girl, no rippling of the pond- just the two of them.

Kavinsky took advantage of Ronan's introspectiveness, hands coming to run firmly up his thighs. Ronan's attention was turned back towards the man under him. Where his shame would have usually set in, Ronan found another wave of fire pulsing through his veins. He felt the fire of a dragons breath on his back and his heart racing out of fear of his truest nightmare. The black eyed demon under him had caused him that. Caused him so much pain. And yet he couldn't help but focus on the still bloodied lips with a certain single-mindedness that is singular to teenage boys.

Snarling, Ronan dove back down. While Kavinsky leaned up for a kiss, Ronan met him with sharp bites. His teeth met puncture wounds that must have been caused by Kavinsky biting his lip when Ronan hit him. His tongue swiped at them viciously and Ronan found him overpowering Kavinsky when he tried to take the kiss back.

"I fucking hate you," Ronan whispered between attacking Kavinsky's mouth and neck. Kavinsky's hand found purchase on his chest, pushing him back up so that Ronan could watch his smirk form slowly.

"Your body says differently, Lynch," Kavinsky practically purred. His hands came to cup the obvious bulge in Ronan's pants a bit too firmly to be pleasurable. Shame finally broke its way through Ronan's fuzzy mind and he pulled back from Kavinsky even further. Mind reeling from what just happened, Ronan felt like he'd be sick again. Kavinsky was all over him again, mouth on his neck, biting and sucking little marks as Ronan sat lifeless. The Greywaren's lack of response didn't deter Kavinsky. The flesh before him was his for the taking, and take he did as hands roamed and scratched with more urgency than before. When they found the front of Ronan's shorts, Ronan snapped back into it.

"Stop K," he said firmly, but barely above a whisper. Surprisingly, Kavinsky did just that, pulling back to look at Ronan.

"Oh, for fucks sake. What Lynch? You want me to dream you up some candles and chocolates? Didn't know you were actually such a chick after all."

"Fuck you," Ronan said half heartedly, stumbling to his feet. Kavinsky jumped up after him and Ronan could have mistaken him for one of the Molotov cocktails he was so fond of.

"I don't get you, Lynch! I give you all of this- ALL OF THIS!" he screamed, turning around wildly and the trees seemed to come back to life at that moment, whispering damnations of the thief in their midsts. Kavinsky turned back to Lynch, holding his gaze, breathing heavily as blood still trickled out of his nose.

"I gave you everything you could have ever dreamed of- literally. You couldn't even give me _one damn thing._"

Ronan had the distinct feeling that this was no longer about whether or not he was going to let Kavinsky get into his pants. His mind was still drunk though and he couldn't quite fit the pieces together. As Kavinsky panted heavily only a few feet away from him, Ronan felt as if the two were separated by more space than could be imaginable.

He found his feet closing that infinite space, although Kavinsky's glare didn't waver even when Ronan reached out to touch his arm. Kavinsky finally dropped his gaze and pulled his arm harshly out of Ronan's grip. He whirled around wildly again, hands grabbing dangerously at his hair. Ronan reached out again and suddenly found himself with an armful of Kavinsky as he threw himself into Ronan, face so close that he was breathing in the stale air Kavinsky exhaled on him. Ronan could swear that this dream was the boy who crumpled on his car. The one whose best friend was now stuck in some Richmond hospital with doctors who didn't know why he would never wake up. The one who kidnapped his brother, who almost took everything from him. The one who wanted _more._

And then Ronan was sick. He turned in time as to not vomit on the other boy. His stomach heaved itself up time after time and Ronan's eyes watered as air couldn't get itself into his lungs, blocked by the contents of his stomach. As he finished, Ronan knew his face was for more than just the vomiting.

"That's disgusting, Lynch," Kavinsky monotoned. Ronan wiped his mouth on his bare arm, grimacing as there were a few chunks that clung to his skin. Knowing he'd have to face Kavinsky eventually, he stood up straight, trying to muster as much dignity as possible.

Kavinsky just watched him, detached and eyes without any of their usual gleam. Ronan felt unnerved by the stare that was so unlike the boy he knew. Ronan opened his mouth to say something before closing it, realizing he had no words for the situation. He could tell him that he hated him, but that wasn't true. He could tell him that he didn't want anything Kavinsky had to offer, but that wasn't true either. And the biggest lie he could tell was that he hoped he never dreamt of him again. Kavinsky spared him from having to come up with anything that wouldn't break the fact that he never lied.

"You couldn't give me one thing," he hissed, malice dripping from each word as his hands came to harshly grab Ronan's face again. "So you _will_ give me this."

Kavinsky kissed him hard one last time. Ronan could still taste the vomit in his mouth but Kavinsky didn't seem bothered by it as he practically threw Ronan away from him after he was done pillaging his pliant victim. The two regarded each other for a moment and Ronan realized that all that he had felt earlier had dissipated and the burning was replaced with a mixture of emotions Ronan wasn't familiar with.

"Kavin-"

"Shut the fuck up." Kavinsky was walking away now, into trees that threatened to tear him apart. One of the warring emotions shot through Ronan, urging him to stop the other boy, but his feet were stubbornly not moving.

"Kavinsky! Stop, you can't- STOP!"

His cry echoed and Cabeswater faded to black. Trees were now shadows and the magical forest was just an imprint on the nothingness that Ronan had created. Kavinsky did stop, looking around. Decidedly not finding what he was looking for, he began to laugh. The laughter turned from the cruel thing that was his usual laugh to something desperate and hysterical that made Ronan want to run away. Kavinsky turned around, and all at once, Ronan realized why Gansey always warned him that he was dangerous. And Adam. And Blue. And even fucking Declan.

Ronan regretted that he never listened to a single one of them. Because that razor sharp smile and hot as coal eyes were focused on him in the same way they had been only a few weeks ago. Kavinsky had always been dangerous, he reasoned, just never to him. But something had changed and Ronan wasn't sure he'd make it out alive.

"You ruin everything, Ronan Lynch." And he said it like a threat. Ronan tensed, body ready for a fight, but Kavinsky didn't advance. He just watched him, a single bright spot in a sea of darkness. He'd seen a documentary once, the alcohol reminded him, of fish in the deepest part of the ocean that used light to lure in their prey before devouring them in a mess of too sharp teeth and bad intentions. Or maybe it was just the teeth, Ronan thought to himself.

He was having a hard time concentrating as the drinks seemed to work through him in greater and greater capacity. Kavinsky's sharp glare became blurred and his tense muscles kept having to be reminded to be ready for a fight rather than sleep. But the fight would never come, thankfully for Ronan who unknowingly swayed on his feet.

He felt fingers tracing him again, like the breeze, just testing out his flesh. Ronan sighed, forgetting why he was so on edge. Lips covered his, gently, and something heavy slipped into his pocket. The lips found his ear and bit in a way that made him shiver.

"Let me return the favor, princess," the words were very far away as Ronan felt himself give in to the booze and the fingers and slipped away to dark.

Ronan wasn't sure if cold hands shook him soon after he was enveloped in blackness or if it was ages later, but he felt as if the alcohol had just kicked in with the way that the world spun and his limbs felt heavy. He thought it must have been ages, for it felt like it, but he knew that nothing was ever as it seemed in his head. While he never lied, his subconscious was not as forthcoming.

It was the blue eyes that did it, though. Ronan felt everything come washing back at him and knew how he must look curled up in the back of his car with half of a pack of beer kicked. Those blue eyes didn't say anything though, which was good because Ronan felt like he could already die from shame. He just groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Ronan?" he heard Gansey over Adam's shoulder. Ronan's mind couldn't figure out why the other boy was here- he called Blue to get Gansey. Not to tell all of Henrietta and send them out on a rescue party. Next Noah would come in with his all knowing look and Ronan would forcibly hit his head into the hood of his beamer and let Kavinsky destroy him in any way he saw fit.

"He's fine. Drunk, but fine," Adam surmised, backing away from the door so that Ronan could get out or let Gansey in- whichever happened first. Not slowed by alcohol Gansey popped his head into the back of the BMW. Ronan didn't miss the disapproving glance at the mess on the floor before Gansey schooled his feature back into concern.

"Ronan- your face!" Gansey practically yelled, making Ronan flinch at the high pitch. His hand swiped his face, as he didn't feel hurting. He removed it and it was sticky covered in red. His stomach lurched, but Ronan was sure there was nothing left.

"Not mine," he ground out, not meeting Gansey's eyes.

"Can you get up?" The offer for help was clear but Ronan just shook his head, groaning at how the world spun at the movement. Gansey pursed his lips but allowed Ronan to amble out of the car at his own speed. Ronan met both of their gazes with a hard one of his own, one that left no room for questions.

"Where's Blue?"

"Calla wouldn't let her take the car and then apparently Orla- ah, well, she's currently dealing with family business," Gansey put with effortless diplomacy. "Adam was there with Persephone so he came to Monmouth to get me instead." Ronan grunted in response, having learned that any head movement would set him off balance again.

The three stood there in uncomfortable silence for a moment, Ronan trying not to think about his dreams and the other two trying not to ask. Finally, Gansey made the motion for them to all climb into the Pig. Adam graciously took the back seat, mumbling to Ronan that having the window down would do him good. His hand trailed the lightest touch over his shoulders as he climbed into the back, making Ronan's eyebrows draw together in confusion. In his drunken state, he wasn't sure the touch had been Adam at all and if it had, he was sure it had been an accident.

Ronan threw himself into the passenger seat, ignoring a worried glance from Gansey. Fixating on Adam's touch, Ronan had a harder and harder time believing it wasn't just the remnants of his dream. He had proven time and time again that all he was to Adam was Gansey's sidekick and a royal pain in the ass. He was tolerated, not comforted. The target of scorn, not concern. But as he looked back in the side mirror, he caught the other looking back at him with a peculiar expression. With the briefest hint of a smile on Adam's lips, he nodded at Ronan, before turning back to his own window to watch the empty streets turn into the bright lights of sleeping Henrietta.


End file.
